


Starlight

by anythingbutgrief



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Smut, but pure filth, pure filth, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutgrief/pseuds/anythingbutgrief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place one of the nights following 4x11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight

Ian caught Mickey coming out of the bathroom, leaving no space between them. “Hey,” he said urgently, warming at the smile that rose on Mickey’s face when he knocked their hands together. “House is empty.”

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I checked. And I was thinking…."

"You do a lot of that lately, huh?" Mickey responded in a soft voice, stroking his fingers along Ian’s wrists.

Ian could detect the tone of concern in Mickey’s voice and was torn between annoyance and warmth. Mickey’s fingers felt nice against his pulse, though, so he settled on the latter. “Thinkin’ about you,” he said finally, leaning to kiss Mickey’s neck, along the side of his face, and stopping along the healing wound at the top of his head. “We never got to celebrate.”

That didn’t defeat the concern in Mickey’s voice, though. “You healed up?”

"Unh-huh." He slipped his head back down to kiss Mickey’s lips firmly, licking warmly along the seam of his mouth. 

"You sure?" Mickey whispered into the wet warm place between their mouths. 

Ian clutched at Mickey’s waist and started dragging him in the direction of the bedroom. “ _Yes_.”

Mickey kissed at the nearest patch of Ian’s skin and shut the door behind them. “Ian,” he murmured against his skin, more of a quiet exclamation than a question.

Ian tangled his fingers into Mickey’s hair, kissed his head once, twice, three times, before tipping his head up to look him in the eyes. “You want me to prove it?” 

Mickey grinned, bit at Ian’s collarbone. “Yeah, you can try.” 

Ian adored the little yelp that Mickey let out the second Ian knocked him back on the bed, but he positioned himself off of Mickey’s body anyway, careful of his own weight, looking down at Mickey with a question in his eyes. 

Mickey growled and yanked Ian down to meet his mouth, sliding their tongues together gracelessly. Ian couldn’t get enough, kissing him until his lips felt bruised. Mickey’s hands gripped hard onto his waist, clenching and unclenching, and Ian didn’t have enough time to ask if something was wrong before Mickey lifted his torso to grind Ian down on top of him. Mickey pressed a hard kiss against Ian’s jaw that transformed into a bite. “I’m okay. Stop fucking around.” 

Ian grinned, pulling back enough to strip off his own shirt before helping Mickey out of his. They stumbled less efficiently out of their jeans and boxers, but in a minute Ian pressed his naked body down hard on top of Mickey’s, kissing and licking that spot on Mickey’s neck that turned him into melted butter, sizzling against his skin. 

"Get—get…lube," Mickey grunted into Ian’s ear. 

"Hold on," Ian whispered, pinning Mickey’s hips to the bed. "Wanna lick you open." Mickey’s pupils widened so Ian could barely make out the outline of blue, swallowing and nodding before opening his legs.

Ian kissed a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses down Mickey’s neck and chest, pausing to lick at one nipple, before licking down his stomach. He scraped his teeth lightly over his left hipbone, smiling when Mickey let out a barely audible whine under his breath. Ian slipped lover, bringing his hands around to lift Mickey’s ass off the bed, slinging Mickey’s legs over his shoulders. Ian’s tongue ran, sharp and hot, along Mickey’s cheeks before his hands spread them apart, Ian dropping kisses on the burning skin around his hole.

Ian pressed his tongue against his hole first, tracing it in wet circles over and over, clockwise and counterclockwise. When Ian felt Mickey’s fingers tangle into his hair, he smiled against his skin, pressing kiss after kiss against every inch, and Mickey laughed above him, breathless and choked-off when Ian began to press his tongue inside him. He started slow, making tiny circles in the first few centimeters of Mickey’s body for a minute before pressing further inside, digging his fingers deeper into Mickey’s thighs at the sound of his groan.

He pushed in an inch, out an inch, in, and out, and in, rotating in circles when Mickey grunted, “I-Ian, fuck.” Ian pulled out, licked in wide, fat stripes all along his ass, nibbling the soft skin of Mickey’s cheeks before re-moistening the hole and shoving all of his tongue inside. He licked as hard and deep as he could before starting up a rhythm, fucking him steadily with his tongue. He could feel Mickey’s hips press up against his fingers, trying to shove back further into Ian’s mouth.

Mickey’s fingers slipped from his hair to the top of his neck, and the sweat pooled between their skin could have been Ian’s, or Mickey’s, or both, at this rate. Ian couldn’t tell whether Mickey’s hoarse voice was chanting out praise or a command, but he heard, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” and rutted his own cock against the bed. Mickey’s other hand came down to Ian’s neck, and Ian realized that Mickey must be sitting halfway up from bed to reach that angle, so he licked in and out of his body five, six, seven more times before pulling back entirely and pushing Mickey’s torso back flat against the bed. Ian massaged handfuls of Mickey’s hips, caressing up and down his torso until he grabbed his hands again, pinning them on either side of his head.

"You gonna be patient for me, Mick?" Ian said, voice rough against Mickey’s jaw. "You gonna let me take care of you?" 

Mickey nodded helplessly, knocking his lips against Ian’s cheek. “Mm-mm, just. Please.” 

Ian kissed Mickey’s neck, licking his pulse, kissed his chin, kissed the dimple that appeared in Mickey’s cheek as he smiled against Ian’s lips, kissed the lobe of his ear before sucking it into his mouth. “I want you so bad, you know that?” Ian whispered into his ear.

Mickey arched his hips to brush against Ian’s cock. “ _How_  bad?” And Ian knew it was meant to be teasing, playful, but he could hear the actual question there. How bad do you want me, how bad do you want me,  _do_  you want me? 

He clutched at Mickey’s fingers and brought one hand to his lips. “Real bad,” he murmured, kissing each knuckle. Ian released both of Mickey’s hands and pulled away to grab the lube out of the bedside drawer. He slicked up a finger, warming the lube up with his thumb before sliding back down Mickey’s body. Mickey spread his legs open again, lifting his hips to meet Ian’s mouth as he leaned in again to kiss and lick his hole, reopening him with his tongue before pulling back and slipping his finger inside. Ian leaned back over Mickey’s body, kissing and biting his chest as he thrust his finger in and out.

"Unh. Unh," Mickey groaned above him, skimming his nails over Ian’s shoulder. Ian pulled back, lubed up a second finger and slipping them both inside as he sucked up a mark above Mickey’s nipple. 

"That feel good?" Ian asked, grabbing at Mickey’s dick and gently pumping in times with his fingers.

Mickey nodded furiously, arching up into Ian’s touch. “More, more, come on.”

"Shh." Ian leaned back down to swallow Mickey’s moans into his mouth, pumping and stretching his fingers faster for a minute before sliding in a third. "I said I’d take care of you, remember?" 

Mickey groaned, wrapped his arms around Ian’s back and jutted his hips forward faster and faster. “Hurry up and get inside me before I come without your tardy ass.” 

Ian laughed and kissed him once more before pulling out of his grasp to slick up his dick. He lined himself up and pushed in halfway, quickly, like he knew Mickey liked, before leaning over to brush the hair out of Mickey’s eyes. Mickey had them screwed shut, his mouth dropped open as he panted for breath. “Hey, hey, you okay?” Ian grunted out, holding himself still even as his legs started to shake. 

Mickey groaned, pressed against Ian’s chest with his fists, and Ian was about to pull out before his torso was grabbed and he was slammed down into the mattress, Mickey’s hands pressing down hard onto Ian’s shoulders as he pressed his ass down all the way on Ian’s dick. “Yeah, I’m good,” he grunted out, staying seated and slowly rotating his hips. 

Ian let out a broken moan, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Mickey’s sweaty hips. His boyfriend grinned at the sound, starting up a faster rhythm, his eyes still shut. Night had fallen outside, but enough starlight cut through the window to catch onto Mickey’s pale skin. “Mick. God. You look…” he trailed off.  _Made of starlight_ , he wanted to say, right when Mickey pressed a hand onto Ian’s abs and started to lift and drop himself, grunting every time he filled himself back up with Ian. “Fucking beautiful,” he finally said, without thinking. 

Mickey’s eyes flicked open at that, staring at Ian like he’d started speaking in an alien language even as his hips kept pumping up and down. “What?” he said in a soft voice, blinking rapidly and bringing up one hand to wipe off his sweaty forehead. 

Ian’s heart picked up, his hips twitching up to meet Mickey’s movements without being told by his brain. His hands clutched harder at Mickey’s hips, and that was all him. “Beautiful,” he repeated. “You’re fucking beautiful.” 

Mickey swallowed, looked away, shook his head. “You hit your head too hard the other night-“

Ian sat up, grabbing Mickey’s waist and pressing his face into Mickey’s chest. “Beautiful, beautiful, so beautiful,” he moaned every time Mickey moved his hips. 

"You’re so stupid," Mickey grunted, grabbing at Ian’s head and kissing his sweaty hair. 

"No," Ian grunted, pressing his hips up faster and faster, kissing and biting every inch of skin near his mouth. "No, you are, you’re—" Ian shifted his hips and grinned when Mickey’s howl of pleasure interrupted his rant, pressing Mickey down hard in that same position a half dozen times as Ian’s other hand stroked his dick as quickly as he could.

He could feel Mickey panting against his hair. “Oh, God, I can’t—I can’t, I’m gonna—”

"Come on, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, come on," Ian hissed against his throat. He pulled back, just far enough to watch Mickey’s face as he exploded against his hand. The beautiful column of Mickey’s sweaty neck caught the light outside, and as Ian came he could only think that he would fight wars for that neck, that light inside this beautiful boy.  _You already have_ , the voice in his head whispered, and Ian pushed away the part of himself that insisted,  _And you will again,_ giving himself over to the rush of warmth in his body, the tingling of his exhausted muscles when Mickey collapsed in a boneless heap on top of him _._

It took him a minute before he was capable of coherent thought, but the first thing that fought off the fog was Mickey’s voice. Of course. “You’re such an idiot, Ian,” Mickey muttered, petting at Ian’s ankle with his foot. 

"Mmmph," Ian eloquently responded, petting at Mickey’s wet hair. "Yeah," he agreed after a minute. 

"So, so stupid," Mickey said, and this time his voice sounded softer, more serious, and it made Ian come back to himself a bit more, enough to slide them to their sides, so he could look Mickey in the eye. 

"Why am I stupid?"

Mickey avoided his eyes, picking at the sheet with his nails. “Those things you said.” He cleared his throat. “Those things you called me.” 

Ian leaned up on his elbow, thinking back on the last few minutes. “What, baby? Is that word off the table, then?” He felt himself smiling, because there was no way he could keep that word from falling out of his mouth in bed, and they both knew it. 

"Not just that," Mickey muttered. His cheeks were flushed, and most of that was probably regular post-orgasm business, but he kept evading Ian’s eyes, looking down every time Ian caught a glimpse of blue, and whatever he was trying to hide came across anyway, like usual.

"Oh. Oh, what, that you’re beautiful?" 

Mickey nodded. 

"I’m stupid for saying that?" Ian knew his voice had gotten snippy, but he didn’t really care, especially not when it got Mickey to meet his eyes, mirroring his irritation. 

"Yeah, you fucking  _are_.” The certainty in Mickey’s voice made something in Ian’s chest break apart, and he couldn’t help reaching his arm over to pull Mickey’s body flush against his, sweatiness be damned.

"Well. I can deal with that," Ian said, kissing Mickey’s forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his chin. "I’m really, really stupid." Mickey’s lips twitched upward, obviously fighting a smile, so Ian kissed them until Mickey lost the battle. "I’m so stupid," he breathed against Mickey’s grin.

"Yeah, you’re so dumb," Mickey responded, kissing back.

"Uh-huh. There’s no changing that," Ian said. "And you’re beautiful." 

Mickey stiffened, like he was about to pull away, but Ian held onto his head, kissed him again, kissed him and stared at Mickey’s wide, vulnerable eyes until he could see the smallest shadow of belief slink into view. Ian would grow gardens in that shadow. “There’s no changing that.” 


End file.
